Damsel Knoxx, a 2023 fellow in the Sexpert Fellowship program at Sexpert Consultants, explores the issue of desire and pleasure in this thought-provoking piece on New Year’s resolutions. Our guest authors contribute diverse perspectives. Their writings do not necessarily reflect the official position of Sexpert Consultants.
Last year, I made a reel on Instagram talking about how we should make sex goals alongside our New Year Resolutions/Goals. My one and only goal last year was to be more connected and present during my sexual experiences. This “New Year, Better Coochie” resolution was my attempt at stepping my cookies up, literally. The sex scenes I admired in movies always looked so passionate and exciting on a spiritual level, and that's what I wanted. Not saying the sex I had been sharing with my partner(s) was trash, but it needed some sustenance. In a valiant effort to research my sex life before I fixed it, I deduced the majority of the sexual experiences I've shared have been carried out like a sport and less of an expression of feelings with my partners.
So here I am, on my “New Year, Better Coochie” vibes. I'm reading books about communication, getting in touch with my desires, and attempting to focus on one partner, but above all, I'm honoring my feelings. Sounds good, don't it? Sounds like a b*tch got a pussy self-help plan straight from Oprah's book club or some sh*t right? Keep reading.
Many of the pleasure professionals I noticed pushing this narrative, exemplified goals in the essence of a bucket list. You know tangible acts that can be crossed off a list with basic metrics and measures of achievement. You know when you’ve accomplished a threesome, the equation is quite easy, all it takes is three consenting participants and the act itself. My journey would have been much smoother if I'd taken that route.
Anyways, I’m off, without a thorough plan, taking inventory in the moment of what I was truly feeling before (foreplay), during (the sex), and after (aftercare) my coochie was getting played with, and the feelings were troubling. I caught myself biting my tongue, and holding back. I fumbled over moments filled with anxiety that could have been exciting spurts of exploration. I found myself in a shadow of shame at least once, and so many times I'd recognize this feeling that "this is not enough, I want more", and I hated it. Is this what "being present” is? If it is, I understand why being disconnected worked for so long. This task of “honoring my feelings” forced me into a space of legitimacy. Acknowledging that the voices in my head, the feelings in my body, and the confusion in my spirit were all legitimate. I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t think my goal through completely at the start of the year, maybe if I had it would have dawned on me that connection and presence could reveal negative feelings. Treating sex like a sport has a special way of fogging the room, moans tend to be the reflex of penetration and it’s hard sometimes to see it’s not passion you’re engaging in, just the practice of the sport.
So what happened next? Eventually, I stopped having sex. Don't fret, the story is not over, even though it's more than a year later, and I'm still not having that deeply passionate sex life I envision for myself– I'd like to believe I'm taking steps in the right direction.
Last year I spent a lot of time with my feelings. I overthink more often than I'd like to admit, and that overthinking can result in me talking myself out of my instincts. In and out of the bedroom I'd been making excuses out of situations, between my partner and I, instead of acknowledging how something affected me, and honoring that feeling. I'd often send short text messages of affirmation to my partner, and I usually didn't get a response. In those moments, I brushed it off because maybe he was busy at work, maybe he didn't see it, or he's not a words-of-affirmation guy so my "I miss you" was too much for him to process. I came up with every excuse I could think of and didn't acknowledge that during sex, I was scared to utter the words "I Love You". When it comes to sex, there's convenience in treating it like a sport, because I found it tremendously easy to say "cum on my face" or "damn you hitting that spot". (Having flashbacks) Playing in the fog was fun.
My “New Year, Better Coochie” resolution went horribly wrong. Not only did I stop having sex, I parted ways with the partner I'd had for ten years, and I was lonely. The goal was to have better sex, which ultimately led to no sex at all. Ain't that a b*tch? I'm not going to just leave you like that though, if you've read this far it's probably because you're in the same boat, and since I drowned a little last year…I want to offer a life vest that may keep the water out of your ears.
Pussy Self-Help Plan (Pt. 1)
"How to be more connected and present in your sex life"
1. Slow the fuck down and acknowledge what you're feeling.
Before you're present and connected with anyone else, do it with yourself. Recognize what it feels like in your body when things energize you and when they drain you. Don’t brush that sh*t off, honor it.
2. Write down your desires.
What are your fantasies? What do you daydream about? What sexual desires get you excited? What have you seen that you want to try? What have you read about that you want to do (sexual and non-sexual)? Non-sexual desires can potentially help you understand your sexual desires a little more in-depth.
Ex: I desire public displays of affection, real bad. Hold my hand and guide me through the farmers market, stare at me from across the room at your office party, play with my hair at the basketball game, and kiss me on street corners before I get in my Uber. / I need my d*ck affectionate. It’s much harder for me to connect with partners who can’t voice or show their affection for me.
3. Communicate with your partner. (I failed, real bad.)
Share your findings and feelings with your partner. Let them know you're on this journey of connectivity and gauge their feelings. Are they down for this journey with you? Do they feel connected already, and in what moments (sexual and non-sexual)?
If you're in a situation like mine, where being present uncovered less than desirable emotions, it's not the end of the world…my sh*t burned down last year but yours doesn't have to. Communicating outside of the bedroom makes for better connections in the sheets. And don't be selfish, open the floor for them to bring ideas too. Vulnerability is disarming.
4. Spend more time on Foreplay & Aftercare
So much connectivity and chemistry is built through the nuances of the build-up and cool-down. Don't neglect that opportunity to be in tune with your partner. Sucking and f*cking is actually a little outdated.
Research and be creative. (This deserves a blog all its own.) But after you’ve communicated more outside of the bedroom about regular shit…that regular shit is information that can strengthen what’s happening in the bedroom.
Ex: If my partner doesn’t have a lot of physical contact in their day to day interactions and that’s something they’ve acknowledged outside of the bedroom. Think about how erotic it can be if we dedicate time to just touching, not fucking, just touching…fucking is definitely going to happen though. The point I'm making is, the time, attention and effort we take to wake up their skin provides so much opportunity for connection in that moment. (This also deserves a blog all its own)
Take a little dive into kink, it’s very helpful.
5. Communicate Some More
Check-in. This is a journey, not a destination, and feelings will change. Check in with yourself and with your partner to understand where you are. It doesn't have to be a formal "Hey this is working for me, is it working for you?" Try expressing gratitude for the energy exchange and how it made you feel/vice versa.
6. Be Open.
To be connected with someone else is to do the work of being vulnerable. You have to give a little to get a little. You can’t expect walls to just fall down just because “you want to be connected to the other person”…it takes creating a safe space to show up fully and honestly with one another. Again, vulnerability is disarming. ———————————————
It's easy to make a post on January 1st about the importance of setting goals for your pleasure/sex life. What I learned is that it takes effort to really experience the type of pleasure that can't be checked off of a bucket list. So even though my “New Year, Better Coochie” resolutions went wrong…I'm thankful for what I learned and what I hope will go right this year.
Damsel Knoxx